


The Shade of Lightning

by RaisonDetre



Series: Forever// Soulmates AU [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- Soul Mates, Fluff, Human! Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Stiles is six, TAKING PROMPTS, is this an au world bc idk, nothing sexual happens, so please prompt me for this verse, werewolf!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6164560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisonDetre/pseuds/RaisonDetre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Stiles, Peter would’ve been all over her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shade of Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! I don't like this one much, but it's for writing practice. Hope y'all enjoy. It's kinda a look inside of Peter's mind... if that makes sense. 
> 
> Stiles is six.

It’s difficult and confusing at all times when a wolf’s soulmate happens to be a lifetime younger. Interacting normally is nearly impossible, not when someone who was literally made for you sits right before you in all of their clueless perfection. 

 

Peter won’t lie. He has a hard time with it. The line between right and wrong has always been blurred and it probably always will be, even after Stiles is eighteen and they can live out what they were destined for if Stiles chooses to do so. 

 

But, even after two years of _knowing Stiles_ , he can’t have sex with others and not feel guilty. Which is completely ludicrous, because the child is only six and Peter’s romantic relationships, though they will never actually pan out, will not affect Stiles in any way until he’s much, much older. 

 

Before Stiles, he had fucked through California without even a pause or an acknowledgement of anyone else. Man or woman, they were in the line of possible fire with Peter Hale, the blue-eyed monster who looked like he could eat absolutely anyone up and have room for seconds. 

 

But, now- feelings and _emotions_ flaunted themselves through his mind. If he didn’t have a true connection with someone, his interaction with them was fleeting and short. He _thought_ about their futures, and their pasts, and what kind of life they had, and what kind of person they were- which was unpleasant and exhausting. Since when did Peter ever care to pause sex for a forty-five minute rant about some girl’s ex who she’s still in love with, which would consequently lead them both to cry and _God above him_ , what had happened to him?!

 

When did he began to _care_?

 

Instead of searching for sexual partners, he spent most of any nights he could manage to pull himself away from Stiles’s side trying to seduce someone at any club and ultimately quitting half-through, because really- what was the point?

 

*

 

The visiting pack from Arizona came with a mixture of people from all walks of life: beautiful women and handsome men, teenagers who smelled like the strong promise of powerful wolves, children who were ignorant to the species they had been born into. 

 

They stayed in Talia’s guesthouse for nearly a week. It was exciting to see Derek, who was grumpy most days, get along with a wolf his own age, and Laura, who was on the peak of being sixteen, interact and measure up to if not above the strongest wolves of the Arizona pack. 

Peter watched from the corners of the room, at all times, waiting for any reason to bring out his claws if needed. For the past three days, Stiles had been glued to his side because John was working nights and Claudia was still checked into the local hospital. 

 

The boy is absent now, his little mate growing tired after it turned eight o’clock, and quietly, Peter had carried him up the stairs in his arms and placed him in the room the wolves preserved for his visits. In his tiny twin bed, Peter had sat beside him and fingered delicately through his dark hair before forcing himself to turn away from his darling and back to the socializing wolves downstairs. 

 

His sour, displeased expression- all from having to leave his Stiles alone upstairs- must be attractive. One man raised his brows in interest, and Peter rolled his eyes- because regardless if he was mateless or not, he was not his type. 

 

When he found his way to a secluded corner in the living room, sex-on-legs had walked in with a confident, pink pout and perfectly wild curls. She was exactly what a younger Peter would purposely seek out. 

 

He tried his best to look uninterested, crossing his arms and finding the wall more entertaining than the she wolf, but she didn’t mind. She may have thought he was playing a game, trying to act aloof to make her want him more. 

 

She wore a long maroon cocktail dress that screamed expensive and was so very different from the stained, cotton pyjamas Stiles had been wearing downstairs earlier. The woman smiled, cool and inviting. 

 

“Isabelle,” she answered a question Peter didn’t ask. 

 

Peter nodded his head in acknowledgement, but kept his attention on the cool thrumming of Stiles’s heartbeat from upstairs. He left the bedroom door propped open for this very reason, so he could supervise his mate even from a floor below. 

 

“You’re Peter, right? Talia’s infamous, _crazy_ brother?” Isabelle asked, licking her pouty lips; she let her dark eyes roam over his body, deliberately paying close attention to any piece of Peter that had any sex appeal. 

 

“Yes,” he spoke; he tried not to sound annoyed, because Talia had ordered him to play nice. “Enjoying the party?” Hopefully she knew small talk never went far or well with Peter. 

 

“No, pack politics bore me,” Isabelle sighed dramatically, before she took a step closer to the wolf. She grinned, everything about her dripping with attraction. “To be honest, I just came along for the fresh meat.” 

 

“And by fresh meat,” Peter didn’t have to say it.

 

“I mean a one-night stand with no strings,” she grinned, confidence evident on her pretty features. Isabelle wasn’t use to be turned down. Peter doubts she ever has been. “What do you say?”

 

“I’ve a mate,” the werewolf didn’t even glance away from the wall. Her voice was running like static through Stiles’s heartbeat, making it harder for Peter to hear clearly. 

 

“No strings,” Isabelle repeated, raising an eyebrow that made her undeniably bewitching. 

 

He shook his head. “He’s upstairs, tucked safely beneath his Scooby-Doo covers. He’s hardly six, and me fucking you wouldn’t affect anything or anyone, but I, for some reason, would not be able to look him in the eye for a full month if I do so much as touch you. Aesthetically speaking, you’re a walking dream that I would have fucked into my mattress a second after your consent. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that I don’t want to,” he paused to glance at the woman. “You understand, don’t you, Isabelle?”

 

Isabelle’s pretty mouth hung open, until she clasped it shut, and nodded in understanding. Because a wolf can’t argue when a mate is in question. 

 

“If you change your mind,” she whispered. “Find me.”

 

*

 

“PETER! PET-” 

 

The werewolf crossed through the home within seconds, cutting off whatever the Arizona Alpha was in the middle of saying to practically run over anything in his direct path to his frantic mate. The guests around him stared and all but clutched their pearls at the wolf’s succinct but vicious journey through the pack house. 

 

Peter was pissed. He had allowed his attention to wander away from the most important thing to his existence. He entered the bedroom to find the boy screaming, thrashing beneath his covers as he attempted to untangle himself from the restrictive sheets. 

 

“Darling, darling,” Peter enveloped his young mate with both arms, shaking the boy until he blinked confused and utterly lost, until he focused on the werewolf’s icy blue eyes staring directly into his. 

 

“I’m here, I’m right beside you,” Peter’s lips pressed to Stiles’s forehead. He combed his hands through his hair and tried everything he could think of to sooth his wild heartbeat. Stiles reeked with fear. 

“I- I- Peter!” Stiles tried to form words, but all he could accomplish was pressing his snotty nose into the chest of the wolf’s expensive suit and wretchedly sob. Hearing it was rough; Peter was terrified of how powerful it seemed to be, ripping through the child’s entire body before escaping from his throat. 

 

“Another nightmare, I know,” Peter whispered assuredly. Because this has been a recurring episode since Claudia began to reek with sickness. Although Stiles was young, he knew exactly what was beginning to happen to his mother, and what would ultimately become of her if she didn’t take Talia’s offered bite.

 

With Stiles curled into Peter’s lap, the two of them remained that way until Stiles managed to calm himself down. He began to breathe deeply, attempting to soothe himself, and listened to the steady heartbeat of Peter, a lullaby that helped the boy concentrate.

 

“Will you… can you just… stay with me?” Stiles stared up at Peter earnestly, amber eyes becoming runny honey from whatever remained from his nightmare.

 

Peter nodded, hardly even thinking about his job downstairs, where he was meant to keep an eye out like a glamorized guard dog. 

 

“Of course,” the wolf whispered into Stiles’s hair.

 

*

 

“I know you don’t want to hear it,” Talia leaned on the door frame of the bedroom. Dressed in a fashion-forward suit that made her look cutthroat and beautiful instantaneously, she watched the two and whispered to Peter. “But it’s hardly ten. The party is likely to go on for another two hours- and I really need you downstairs while I run with the Alpha.”

 

Peter glanced up from where his steady gaze had been fixated on a sleeping Stiles. Werewolves were night creatures, they thrived and socialized when the moon was clearly placed in the dark sky. 

 

Although Peter would rather stay in the bed, curled up next to his mate and keeping any threats far from the child, he knew a question from Talia was always just a command being asked politely. 

 

He nodded, scooping up Stiles in his arms and throwing the blanket around his free shoulder. The human hardly noticed, simply digging his face into Peter’s neck and exhaling hot air onto his bare skin. 

 

When they reached the first level, his nieces and nephews were nowhere near tired, the wolves inside of them only growing more aware with the later hours. Peter didn’t do much of anything else but move to the leather couch in the living room, ignoring everyone but Stiles. 

 

Draping the boy over him, Stiles’s face still dug comfortably into Peter’s neck and his hands clung subconsciously to his suit’s jacket. Half of his body was curled into the wolf’s lap, the other draping onto the leather couch, all of him safely hidden away from any wolves’ gaze with his comforter. 

 

Considering it was a house of wolves, not many of them spoke very loud. None of them needed to, and Peter was grateful. Stiles needed as much sleep as possible; most of the time, shut-eye was fleeting and short for the child. 

 

“That’s him,” Suddenly, beside him, Isabelle sidled up. She stood with a glass of wine, useless really for a werewolf, and studied the pair. 

 

“His name is Stiles, and he’s sleeping,” Peter spoke almost inaudibly, combing his hands through the boy’s hair, trying to soothe away the nightmares before they had the chance to even exist. 

 

“It’s a shame,” Isabelle whispered back almost fondly, letting her eyes drag over the sleeping boy’s form before coming back to Peter’s. “To have a such a young boy as your soulmate, a burden until eighteen, really.”

 

She may have thought her words were harmless, as if they would have no effect on Peter. But the very moment they left her lips, the wolf froze, slowly leveling his eyes with the woman. Now, they shone with the dangerous shade of lightning. 

 

“He’s not a burden,” he whispered; the only reason why he hadn’t shot up from the couch and threaten the woman with the promise of his claws in the vertebras of her neck was because of the anchoring weight of Stiles. 

 

“He’s a child, I just think it’s sad that you’ll be wasting the best years of your life staying celibate,” Isabelle continued, clueless to the other’s obvious anger. 

 

“The best years of my life will not be wasted as long as I’m beside Stiles,” Peter voiced with annoyance, clearly done with the she-wolf. “Now, go before I show you what I do with all of this pent up energy,” his smile became lethal. He could almost taste her blood in his mouth, feel the crimson between his canines and trapped in the beds of his fingernails. 

 

Isabelle’s dark eyes widened almost comically as she registered exactly how Peter Hale dealt with any frustrations- by ripping apart those who annoyed him. The she wolf scrambled, still gracefully, as she realized the rumors were true. 

 

Peter Hale was a violent sociopath.

She felt bad for the kid.

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENTS AND PROMPTS! PR O MP TS! PROMPTS APPRECIATED> AS IN A I AM A TOTAL SLUT FOR PROMPTS. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO HAPPEN? 
> 
> Thanks for reading loves. :)


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